


Ridin' Shotgun

by BlaiseKillmonger



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, BAMF T'Challa (Marvel), Bisexual T'Challa (Marvel), Bottom Erik Killmonger, Erik Being Cocky, Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik Killmonger and T'Challa Are Not Related, Erik is THAT annoying neighbor, I'm Sorry, M/M, Nipple Play, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Smoking, T'Challa gets high for the first time, Top T'Challa (Marvel), but also not a bad one, even if it's not obvious, too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiseKillmonger/pseuds/BlaiseKillmonger
Summary: “Like this?”He felt moronic for even asking but Erik simply smiled at him. Like he was proud.“Yeah, like that,” Erik said with a huge smile. He bit his lip and it looked like he was humored by T’Challa’s question. He appreciated the small smile T’Challa gave and the glisten in his eyes. “You know, you look kinda c...”Erik stopped and T’Challa was curious as to what the concluding word was.“Kind of what?”Now it was T’Challa’s turn to smirk.“Cool. Kind of cool.”





	Ridin' Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, N'Jobu was killed in Oakland by someone else instead of T'Chaka. Also, I understand the smell of marijuana likely wouldn't blow specifically in T'Challa's direction but please, let's pretend it was possible because this has been drafted for too long due to the lack of confidence I had with this fic XD.
> 
> I've also wanted to write with the idea of Erik never knowing who murdered his father for a long time, a universe where Erik Stevens never becomes Erik Killmonger because vengeance doesn't consume his life and he actually gets to live it. But also without having T'Chaka encounter N'Jobu, or even having them as cousins. This may be the most experimental fic I've ever written so that's why it's taken me to post it.

_Why him?_

Every week T’Challa asked himself the same question yet he always came up short of an answer. The neighbors never seemed to protest because either they were too old to notice or they didn’t care. At first, his head would turn in the opposite direction in a feeble attempt not to care either but it was unsuccessful.  

T’Challa’s apartment rested on the end of the complex so whenever this guy blasted his music or sang along with it, T’Challa became aware. But this time he needed to do something about it because T’Challa had to sleep. Missing sleep was something T’Challa was no stranger to but he preferred it to be of his own doing. Not some jerk he had never met before.  

Well, they had met in a way. T’Challa shouted ‘turn it down!’ a few weeks ago and received a ‘fuck off!’ in return. Despite those words being yelled with a deep, almost entrancing manner he still needed to let this guy know there was a problem. Even if his voice played over and over again in T’Challa’s head. 

There was no need to dress as if there was an occasion but the Wakandan still did. An oversized black hoodie with an even looser white shirt underneath covered his torso and he wore black and red sweatpants to go with it. As he put the fresh white sneakers on, he debated putting a coat on but who was he trying to impress? It’s not like this was a date. 

T’Challa jumped off his bed and took one last deep inhalation. He definitely was not imagining the smell of marijuana. Sometimes this guy would just blare his music from the rooftop or even just smoke more than T’Challa believed any human could. But both? At this time of the night? He opened his window and stuck his head out, overwhelmed with the smell and noise. 

“Bast, please give me the patience I need. I feel as if I have not been given enough of it to deal with this man.” 

T’Challa always prayed but for once it wasn’t for protection over his little sister who chose to stay in Wakanda. She would soon be coming to visit her brother but she was missed every day just like his mother and late father. Now he prayed for patience which he always seemed to have. 

His steps could barely be counted from the pace he was going at up the steps and the music got even louder. He saw the fire exit and approached it with an aware mindset. T’Challa knew whoever this was would with no doubt tell him to fuck off again but he couldn’t give in. He’d have to remain calm and if it was necessary he would turn the music off himself. 

The door squeaked with a noise that almost made T’Challa cringe when he pushed it. As soon as he did his face was welcomed with a breeze that made him regret leaving the coat behind but it was only temporary. Soon the potent smell of burning returned but it wasn’t like burnt paper or wood. No this smelt like the scent his neighbor frequently left. 

A figure was sat on a chair just big enough for two residents and all T’Challa could see from his distance was the said chair, figure and he could see a table in front. He also took note of the large trail of smoke traveling in front of the man. With no other thought in his mind, he began to approach the neighbor. 

“Excuse me...” T’Challa started. He could hear the ‘fuck off’ in his mind but instead, there was nothing to hear apart from the music. T’Challa listened to different varieties of music and recognized this song. This song always played towards the end of the music sessions his neighbor had so maybe he should have just stayed inside for a bit longer. No. This had to be done. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” 

The bold repetition worked as the man’s hand lowered and he dropped his joint into the ashtray. T’Challa became aware that he had kept it burning so the man clearly intended to have a quick conversation. Maybe those two words. ‘Fuck Off’. 

“Wassup?”  

That deep voice. It was so smooth but dominant. Even the way he greeted T’Challa sounded like he was demanding something. But T’Challa attempted not to think of what he would give him. The man barely shuffled to the right and coughed. As T’Challa got closer to him he identified the man’s dreads and could see his bronzed arms, they were muscular and looked like they could do some damage. T'Challa even spotted a medium sized patch of darker skin - a birthmark - on one bicep.

“Eh, if you’re gonna interrupt my night, the least you can do is sit.” 

For someone who was so straightforward with T’Challa this man definitely seemed to develop some form of manners. Maybe T’Challa wouldn’t require as much patience as he initially believed. He sat next to the man and T'Challa couldn’t help but look up and down. He appeared to be the perfect man in T’Challa’s eyes but he had to stay focused. 

“I just wanted to ask-” 

The man grinned and let a chuckle escape as if he had just discovered something secret. A dirty secret even. He copied T’Challa’s motion of analyzing the person in front of him and he nodded after. 

“I recognize that voice. Shit, you’re that guy who told me to turn my music down.” 

T’Challa felt some heat flush in his face. This guy remembered him? Was it supposed to be a compliment, was it supposed to be anything? He hoped that the man wasn’t a violent one because despite his training in martial arts it looked like this man would instantly render all of it a waste of time. 

“Yes, yes I am. I’m T’Challa, your neighbor. You play this music and smoke every week, it is affecting my sleeping pattern.”  

T’Challa told some truth but he knew a majority of the time his sleeping pattern was fictional. The look on the other man’s face told T’Challa that he knew of that fact too. T’Challa couldn’t work out why this man looked so confident, so smug.  

“Aight, well I’m Erik. And I’m sure I saw you bringing in a box of donuts at like two in the morning.” 

His smirk irritated T’Challa as much as the sentence did. But instead of irritation, he wore an expression of confusion. 

“I’m sorry, how did you-” 

“I come up here every day. Just ‘cos you smell or hear this shit weekly doesn’t mean I ain’t here daily.” 

Erik’s voice was wondrous to T’Challa’s ears, highly desirable and a rich delicacy for them to indulge in. As he looked at Erik more he appreciated the beard and even spotted how it was patchy. But he didn’t find any faults. His jaw was sharp and his skin could not be clearer. Of course, T’Challa wasn’t shocked at the red-tinted eyes but it kind of turned T’Challa on. Everything about Erik was attractive, especially his hidden grills which were revealed when he talked. 

Erik’s white shirt was a slim fit on him and his golden chain could only be spotted with focus. His grey sweatpants were loose on him and T’Challa wondered how such a simple outfit could look so good. Erik reached for his joint and placed the smallest end in between his lips. They looked so alluring to T'Challa, full of life and ready to be addressed by a kiss.

“Hey, you smoke?”  

T’Challa shook his head feebly and Erik smacked his lips. 

“Man, y’all think this shit is bad for you. I ain’t looking to live a long life, I’m tryna live my life. Go on, just try it. I’ll have a civilized conversation with you.” 

Erik lit the joint up and inhaled strongly. T’Challa watched the other end light up with Erik’s inhalation and soon after Erik blew out a gust of smoke. 

“See? Simple as that.” 

He knocked the ash off the tip and looked around for something. T’Challa was curious until Erik pulled out a glass jar of what looked like apple juice. 

“This is the shit when you’re smacked. Plus, I know you’ll cough so trust me you’ll appreciate this.” 

T’Challa didn’t understand why Erik was so certain he would even engage in this sort of behavior.  

“I came here to ask you to turn the music down and stop leaving a trail of the smell in my direction. I don’t recall asking you to get me high.” 

Erik smirked at the stern tone and passed the joint to him.  

“You know, you looked like you could let loose. I like guys who know how to turn the ‘on’ switch off. Maybe I was wrong...” 

T’Challa should not have cared about those words as much as he did. He held the burning blunt in his hand and was kicking himself in his head. The darker man admitted to himself that this man looked good but he wasn’t about to start smoking for the sake of impressing him. But then again that teasing look in Erik’s eye haunted him. Like he knew what he was doing. 

“Go on Bambi...get those luscious big brown eyes a bit red...” 

Being called ‘Bambi’ stole a breath from T’Challa. He had been noted about his eyes before but not like that. And the way Erik said it too. He was talking to practically a stranger. But maybe he didn’t care – whether it was because he was high or just extremely confident didn’t matter to T’Challa. He had said it and now he was in T’Challa’s head. 

Now Erik’s grin was wild.  

“You’re thinking too much. Just inhale, hold, and breathe out. You ain’t even gotta hold it for more than a second.” 

T’Challa rolled his eyes which followed with a sigh. Erik was not going to give up so there was no point objecting. Or maybe he would. But T’Challa was not fond of the idea of disappointing the man beside him. With a hesitant look, he took the blunt and wedged the same end Erik did between his lips.  

“Like this?” 

He felt moronic for even asking but Erik simply smiled at him. Like he was proud. 

“Yeah, like that,” Erik said with a huge smile. He bit his lip and it looked like he was humored by T’Challa’s question. He appreciated the small smile T’Challa gave and the glisten in his eyes. “You know, you look kinda c...” 

Erik stopped and T’Challa was curious as to what the concluding word was.  

“Kind of  _what_?” 

Now it was T’Challa’s turn to smirk.  

“Cool. Kind of cool.” 

T’Challa was aware of Erik’s attempt to clear his throat after. He was lying. But he didn’t know what the word he meant to say.  

“Oh. Thank you?” T’Challa laughed and Erik failed in hiding his smiling face. Erik knew what he wanted to say. But he wouldn’t.  

“You’re welcome,” Erik chuckled. “Let me light that for you.” 

T’Challa allowed Erik to flick the lighter and tried to avoid the flame under his nose. 

“Relax, it ain’t gonna bite. I got you.” 

Those words made T’Challa smile instantly and he felt his body relax.  

 _‘I got you’._  

Erik resumed and quickly after the end burned again. T’Challa inhaled slowly until he knew he had enough and tried to hold the hot smoke in his mouth.  

“Breathe in again,” Erik said and T’Challa obliged. When he exhaled he coughed a few times but for someone doing this for his first time, it was impressive. “Fuck, you sure you ain’t done this before?” 

T’Challa decided to go again and repeated his inhalation, this time his pride caught up with him and he coughed more. Erik nodded with a happy expression and grabbed his apple juice.  

“Here, drink this.” 

It did indeed help T’Challa - even if he was not proud of getting help – and Erik watched him drink it. 

“Thank you,” T’Challa coughed. It was the last cough and he passed the blunt back to Erik. “Maybe you should have it.” 

Erik shook his head and chuckled. The heavy pats he gave on T’Challa’s shoulder shook the man. 

“Don’t trip. You did good for your first time.” 

His tone was assuring and T’Challa felt less stupid. At first, he watched the dark sky in front of him and it was beautiful. The black canvas of night was silent but the tiny milky speckles were enough to steal his attention.  

“Breathtaking, right?” 

Erik smoked by T’Challa as the music blared and they stared at the sky. T’Challa was tempted to ask about the songs Erik listened to – this one was about God blessing the dead. Erik seemed to be into the song and even rapped along to it passionately.  

“Man, ain't nobody promised me a thang, I been caught up in this game...!” Erik rapped with a toothy smile. He noticed the joint was getting closer to its end and passed it back to T’Challa. It’s not like he needed any more, this was his third one of the night.  

“You seem to love these songs. Why?”  

Erik turned slowly and his eyes were heavily tinted with red. Even his expressions seemed slow.  

“Man...Pac is the shit. Like people say ‘he was the best’, bitch he still is!” Erik exclaimed. “But this song...I play it ‘cos I like to remember my daddy. Most guys say ‘old man’ or ‘pops’ but he died before I was the age to stop saying ‘daddy’ so why stop?” 

T’Challa inhaled and felt a flush. But it wasn’t smoke in his mouth, it was guilt. He had been making a big deal out of this and in the end, it was just a man paying respect to his father. T'Challa would be more than offended if somebody complained about his ancestral plane visits.

“If you do not mind me asking, how did he die?” 

T’Challa kept smoking until it was nearly finished and they resumed looking at the stars. Now he could feel it. He could not if it was the marijuana or just a placebo effect but he felt the urge to let his head go and it plopped onto the back of the comfy chair. Erik sighed and scratched the back of his head before joining T’Challa in slumping lazily on the chair. 

“Naw, you good. He died how like Pac died. Shot in the streets but nobody knows who did it, not even me. The only difference is he died on the sidewalk and not in a hospital. But I think it did me good, never knowing.” 

T’Challa gave a small smile but his concerned expression outweighed it. 

“Why is that?” 

After he finished the last of the blunt, he put it in the ashtray and leaned even further back. He was definitely high.  

“If I knew who killed him, I’d probably end up hunting them. Revenge is something that haunts us in Oakland. It killed him and it killed Pac, even if that was somewhere else. Point being, everyone here won’t take shit or walk away. Do the math right, only half will actually get out alive. Until someone else says something and then they become the other half that dies. I don’t want my life to be a mission of vengeance ‘cos once I get it, what do I do? I would have spent my life for one thing, and left no time to do anything else.” 

With no time to think he placed a hand on Erik’s thigh and tapped his palm against the grey material of his sweatpants. 

“You’re a strong, and wise man, Erik.” 

His words went well with the Oakland boy and he had no idea how much Erik appreciated that handful gesture. 

“And high.” 

Both of their laughs boomed on the rooftop and they ended up holding their stomachs. Now T’Challa was very relaxed and he felt his head swing slowly from left to right. He couldn’t stop smiling and Erik stood up to take a breath. Opening up to T’Challa made him feel better about the whole situation and it even felt like he’d lifted some weight off his shoulders.  

He wanted to try one last thing with T’Challa before...before what? It wasn’t like T’Challa was going anywhere so why was he so worried? Looking into T’Challa’s eyes he smiled at the red lines surrounding those big Bambi eyes he loved so much.  

“Yeah...you smacked alright. But this is just the start.” 

He saw the jar of his weed and rolled joints under the table and smirked. When he bent to pick the jar, his pants fell slightly and T’Challa found himself staring at the man’s ass for longer than he should have. He shouldn’t have been even staring at his ass. Or staring at all. He blamed it on his senses being slowed down. 

Erik turned around and saw T’Challa’s eyes shift quickly in the other direction and he chuckled to himself. He slowly pulled his pants up and raised an eyebrow.  

“You good?” 

His smirk alerted T’Challa but he felt too at ease to panic. Erik had caught him but he seemed to be taking it well. 

“Yes...I just feel...really...” 

“ _High_?” 

“Yes, that.” 

“Well, you’re about to get even higher.” 

T’Challa’s eyes moved to Erik and he looked tired. His eyes were narrow and tinted but he felt so good. The man resumed his position next to him and waved a blunt in front of those same narrow eyes. 

“I just wanna try something.” 

Erik sounded playful. Like he was being honest but he really wanted to try whatever it was.  

“What is it?” T’Challa asked. He had a look in his eyes that made Erik want to smile. Everything about T’Challa wanted to make Erik smile. This stranger came to confront him but here he was sitting, laughing and even smoking with him. 

But it wasn’t the way he was expecting to feel about him. Erik did not want a new smoking partner to talk to - he had too many of those in his opinion – but instead, he wanted to spend more time with T’Challa. To see him more. To look at him more. He wanted to hear that laugh again; he would tell a million jokes or pull the silliest faces to reunite his ears with that sound. 

Erik had no idea what it was. Well, he did. But he didn’t know what to do. 

“It’s called shotgunning. I’ll need you to open your mouth slowly when I wink. You trust me, right?” 

 _Of course. Definitely. I’ll always trust you._  These were three answers T’Challa desired to utter. 

“Y-Yes,” T’Challa choked out. He blamed it on how dry his mouth was but really Erik was doing something to him he wasn’t yet aware of. His jaw tightened after and he felt like he never wanted to speak again but he did not need to. 

The lighter flicked again and this time Erik had to try multiple times before releasing the flame onto the blunt. His tiny grunts were loud enough for T’Challa to hear. 

“Fuck, that’s another one finished.” 

He took in so much smoke T’Challa’s eyes widened but without warning, Erik placed his hand on the back of his neck. It felt warm and firm. He could feel the extra pressure from the middle and ring finger even if Erik wasn’t holding his neck too hard.  

When Erik winked it stole T’Challa’s breath. His mouth slipped open with minimal pace and Erik arched his head which prompted T’Challa to do the same. Their heads got closer – so did their lips – and T’Challa closed his eyes as Erik gently blew a sheet of smoke directly into his mouth. It was warm, it felt like a smooth kiss on his tongue. 

Erik’s eyes narrowed as he grinned and T’Challa inhaled what he could before blowing it out of his nose. But Erik never took his hand off T’Challa’s neck; an action which never happened and both men noticed. But neither of them tried to change anything. Erik stared into T’Challa’s eyes like there was treasure behind them.  

“There’s something about you...” Erik whispered. Fuck. He did not intend to whisper but the way he said it brought T’Challa’s eyes to his lips. Those golden dentures. He may have been high but he knew what he wanted.  

Erik dropped the blunt and closed his eyes with his hand still on the back T’Challa’s neck. But his fingers slowly trailed up and ran through his curls. The darker man almost twitched as Erik’s pinky finger ran across the bridge of his ear with a teasing sensation but it was subtle enough for him to stay still. Neither man could deny having carnal desires for the other man and it was only a matter of time.

Then they both gasped silently as they looked at each other. When they closed their eyes again, Erik moved T’Challa closer to him with his hand and they pushed their lips together. They finally felt the other man’s touch on their mouths and neither of them were ready to move away. Soon they fused their lips tighter and they began kissing passionately. 

T’Challa found his hand slowly moving up Erik’s thigh until it stopped on his crotch. But he didn’t want to do that so quick or even dissuade Erik, so he continued all the way to Erik’s stomach. T’Challa had bigger hands than Erik but he had no trouble sliding it under Erik’s fitted shirt and exploring his heated skin underneath. 

He felt a defined sculpture underneath it. Erik definitely worked out. There was some hair on his torso and when his fingertips trailed across Erik’s chest the man with dreads let a small moan out. The way those subtle nails were freshly trimmed but long enough to leave a dragging, even scratching feeling. 

“Fuck,” Erik choked out. But T’Challa hadn’t finished. He felt an erect piece of flesh that stuck out from the rest of his chest and noticed Erik’s eyes clench – if he hadn’t been kissing T’Challa his teeth would have sunken into his bottom lip instantly. He circled his finger across the erect nipple a few times, gently teasing the skin and Erik moaned into his kiss. Not in a way T’Challa had expected. 

“E-Erik...” T’Challa uttered but he did not want to say anything else. Only Erik’s name.  

Erik was so hard for the man saying his name but he wanted to hear his name again so he moved back and looked at T’Challa before reuniting their lips. T’Challa also had an erection pleading to be attended to so Erik crawled his hand into T’Challa’s pants and buried it under the waistband. He could feel the dagger through the material of T’Challa’s underwear and pushed a finger onto the patch of pre-release he detected. 

Neither man was ready for the moment that was to come but that didn’t mean they wanted to deny it from happening. With a firm grip on the back of T’Challa’s neck, Erik could feel the rushed pulse coming from a vein under his ring finger. His heart was beating fast too, as was T’Challa’s. He slowly pushed the waistband of T’Challa’s boxers under his member and followed the waistband of his pants with it, exposing T’Challa to the black canvas of the night. 

At first, T’Challa was self-conscious. His manhood was out for anybody to see. But his care ceased once he lifted his waist up and Erik had pulled his pants lower until they were just above his thighs. Erik wrapped his hand around his member and used his free hand to return back to the back of his neck. Both of them moaned once Erik began to move his hand back and forth. 

Truth be told T’Challa had only masturbated a handful of times. But this time it felt so much better and much less guilty because he was high. He did not even care that his penis was out for all and any eyes to see. The lighter man’s hand bounced up and down with its handful of T’Challa appreciating the gesture. 

T’Challa tried to throw his head back but Erik’s hand kept it in place and he moaned into Erik’s kiss with a slight quiver.  

“Mmmm...” T’Challa released. His moans were so deep yet they had a tinge of feminine tone.  

“Fuck that’s hot...” Erik groaned as his tongue battled for dominance with T’Challa’s. His hand never grew tired of masturbating T’Challa and T’Challa was almost ashamed that he was halfway to releasing. He tried as hard as he could to prolong it and it partially worked. But he knew when he did let go it would be much more desired, more needed. It would be so violent. 

Even the thought of unloading onto Erik’s smooth hands, the streaks of satisfied white streaming down different parts of his hand brought thirst to his throat. Now he needed to. 

“I-I’m-” 

Erik silenced him with a light bite on his lower lip and moved his mouth down T’Challa’s neck. T’Challa’s pulse spiked as Erik’s lips worked magic on his neck and he couldn’t hold it. He let loud noises pour from his throat, moaning enough to drive Erik crazy. Despite clenching his eyes tightly when he did open them, he saw tiny dots from how amazing the multiple sensations were. 

T’Challa pushed his legs as far out as he could and his shoulders dug into the couch as he leaned back. Now it was his turn to hold Erik’s head in place and he could not help but yank on a handful of his dreads.  

The last few moans were choked as he came and it was overwhelming. Hot streams pushed out from the slit of his member as Erik attacked his neck with bites and kisses. His release spurted everywhere and as his sordid mind predicted some fell on Erik’s hand and trickled down. T’Challa was breathless throughout his climax and gasped for air once he was finishing up.  

His eyes watched the night’s sky as he let the last few spurts of cum escape and Erik grinned with heavy satisfaction.  

“Shit, you got nut all over my hand...” 

His bragging voice teased the huffing man as his head laid back. T’Challa did not change his aim of sight but he could hear the sound of Erik licking his fingers so he could only assume. And his assumption was right, Erik practically dined on the evidence of pleasure left on his fingers and around his hand. 

When it was over T’Challa had difficulty comprehending the situation. Not because he was high. Not because he had just ejaculated. But because it was because he saw no wrong in it. But was there any wrong to see? He couldn’t ask himself these questions when Erik shifted off him and stood up. There was no hiding his eager excitement. 

“That...was...incredible.” 

T’Challa brought his head down to look at Erik’s grin. They were in the moment now and despite being weak from his orgasm he could easily go again in ten-to-twenty minutes. Erik’s expression told him they were going to use the time wisely. 

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this drafted for too long, so I decided to just post it. Let me know what you think and please let me know if there are any mistakes I haven't identified. Don't worry, there's more smut in the next chapter I promise.


End file.
